Breathe Me
by R.R.Staden
Summary: When an accident leaves Blaine broken, Kurt has to pick up the pieces, and sew them both back together. But what happens with the one who speaks courage doesn't? / I suck at summaries. Sorry!
1. Chapter 1

"Kurt?" The voice was soft and frantic. Over every syllable it cracked, before it died breathlessly so the t wasn't even pronounced.

Kurt Hummel pressed the phone hard against his ear, desperately trying to listen. Nothing came out from the other end again except for a irregular breathing pattern. The only noise in the world was a constant beeping on the other end of the phone. It was the only thing that remained steady. The boy bit his lip, trying to bring his reel of emotions into check. If Blaine had been in his position, he would've kept his composure. _Be like Blaine,_ Kurt told himself silently.

"Kurt?" the voice asked again, this time not wavering as clearly.

The boy's throat clenched, restricting his vocal chords and cutting off his words. Kurt clamped his eyes shut, recoiling from everything around him. But in the hidden blackness of his eyelids poised a vivid picture which he refused to believe in. He forced himself to take a long, staggering breath, before opening his mouth. His tongue moved slowly like it was stuck in tar, fumbling over the words. "I'll be there soon."

"Don't drive, Kurt. We can't have the two of you-"

"I'm fine."

He snapped the phone closed and shoved it into his pocket. Kurt stood in the middle of his kitchen, not quite sure what to do or how to react. Everything had turned into a spiral downwards in a few short seconds, and with three words. A small weeping noise filled his eardrums and it took him a few minutes to realize he was releasing the sound. Everything was not fine.

Kurt's hands flew to his face as he fell, sliding to the tile. He placed his head against the cool floor, trying to control the bile that was rising in his throat. The tears spilling down his face and lay in a pool underneath his cheek. Stars filled his vision along with a murky black and purple that threatened to take him under. From his mouth escaped a horrible noise; a gut wrenching scream of anguish.

I'm fine was a large exaggeration. Kurt felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest and was being severed amongst the floor. This feeling he tried to avoid at all costs. He had managed it too, until exactly ten minutes ago. Kurt hadn't felt this much pain since his mom died…

The boy wrapped his arms around himself, desperately trying to hold himself together. He tried to concentrate on anything but what he had learned, but his mind betrayed him. Kurt was submerged in the very horror he never expected to happen. He bit down on his lip before pressing his hands to his face again, trying to force himself into a dark corner of his mind to escape the pain.

"Kurt?"

The boy wondered if he had somehow called someone on his phone. Pocket dialled, perhaps. But then two large hands were placed on his shoulders, pushing him into a sitting position. Kurt's head spun, swirling the walls and the countertops together. He couldn't clearly see anything with the spinning, and the tears didn't help any either.

He felt a thumb swipe off a bunch of the salt water off his cheek that fell from his eyes. Finn Hudson sat in front of him, his face deteriorating with every sob Kurt made. The tears continued to pour, and soon Kurt's vision was completely blurred once again. A shuffle of feet came from farther through the house and Kurt heard a sharp intake of breath. He imagined he looked horrible, but this was the first time he honestly didn't care. Kurt Hummel didn't care what he looked like.

"Rachel," Finn breathed. There was more feet shuffling and then another set of hands had wrapped themselves around Kurt's torso. Kurt could feel the girl's breath on the nape of his neck, before she planted her lips on the top of his head. The room stayed completely quiet except for the unnatural and horrible noises escaping the crumpled boy.

"What happened?" Rachel asked quietly. Kurt felt the hum of her voice through her chest, which she had pulled him against. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but his lip began to tremble violently. He brushed his fingers against it, before forcing his jaw shut on top of them. Anything to take the pain he felt in his heart away.

Clumsily, a set of fingers pried Kurt's own away from his teeth. Kurt could taste the iron liquid in his mouth from the now removed fingers of his. But the small tingling of where the blood ran out of his knuckles was nothing compared to what he felt in his chest. Again, Kurt raised his fingers to his lips but Finn had his hands clamped around Kurt's wrists. Kurt twisted against Finn's grip but the boy had expected the exact reaction and had already braced himself.

The smaller of the boys started to sob again, almost to the point where it was hysterical. He gritted his teeth, a cry escaping his tightened throat. He dug his nails into his palms and felt his chest ripping apart. The tears poured endlessly down his cheeks and onto his shirt, soaking the fabric. Rachel tightened her grip around Kurt's writhing body and tried to sooth him.

"Finn," Rachel begged. Her dark brown eyes were brimmed with tears, asking with everything she had for Finn to do _something._

Finn looked at this broken step brother and desperately tried to clear his tears. His cold fingers allowed a small relief on Kurt's swollen cheeks. With uncanny speed, Kurt reached out to find Finn's shirt, and he wrenched him forward so their faces were inches apart. Or what he assumed to be as he could currently only make out watered sillouttes. The smaller boy gritted his teeth and twisted the shirt in his fist. "Drive me to the hospital."

_._._._

**Authors Word:**

Well, I didn't really know where this was going. I just kind of sat down and began to write. I have an idea of where this will go now. So, please let me know what you think of it! I'm very curious!


	2. Headlights

Blaine drew his sleeve back and glanced at his watch. His brow furrowed in response, but he shook his head to rid of the thoughts that crossed his mind. As soon as Kurt saw that he bore gifts, he was sure he would be more mad over them than the lost minutes. He shifted the awkward boxes in his arm and quickened his pace towards his car. The boy put the gifts in the back of his BMW and delicately secured them into place. A small smile flickered on his lips before he closed the trunk.

There was a reason why he had so many gifts. It had been a year today, that the two boys had met. The way the whole scene had played out that day in the commons room was on repeat in his brain. Blaine's hand stretching out, adjusting the collar to a flushed Kurt. Opening his mouth and singing at the top of his lungs and catching Kurt's eyes. It played forward to when he had sat down with Wes and David after Kurt had confessed he was a spy. Blaine had memorized every word from the conversation. "Are you all gay?" Kurt had asked. Blaine felt the smile broaden on his face as he restarted it all over again.

The car revved to life before Blaine pulled out of the parking lot. _8:23._ He was supposed to be at Kurt's house in seven minutes and the drive from the gift shop was a good fifteen. A small sigh escaped Blaine's chest before he stepped on the gas and headed down the asphalt. It had grown dark already with the winter months and created an eerie glow. Blaine squinted occasionally, trying to make out when there were no street lights to guide his way; deer were known for jumping out and basically committing suicide when they saw car headlights amongst the dark.

The boy's eyes flickered over his body quickly; blue jeans with a white v-neck. Simple but classy, he decided. They were only going to be meeting up with the McKinley kids at Breadsticks and he could already picture what everyone would wear; Rachel in a flannel print dress that scooped low over her bust, which would contract Finn's eyes like flies to honey. Quinn would most likely still be sporting her Cheerios outfit, complete with hair slicked back into a pony. Sam's jacket would be draped around her shoulders, showing his well muscled form underneath a simple print tee. He went through the rest of the group, predicting each outfit. He stopped when he reached Kurt, trying to decide what the boy would be wearing tonight. Each day was a surprise, so Blaine expected the unexpected.

Blaine couldn't hide the grin on his face. It was dark and no one could see in his car, even if there had've been any others on the street. His hand reached for the dial of his radio, and turned it up to listen to _Hold It Against Me_ by Britney Spears. He found himself singing along to it quietly; Kurt had been listening to the new hit… non stop.

He didn't know if it had been when he had reached for the dial, or if it was when he started to think of Kurt. All Blaine knew was that he hit something- _hard._ His foot hit the break as something flew out of the brush, smacking into the hood of his silver Volvo and smashing the windshield. On pure reaction, Blaine steered to the right, and continued to slam as hard as he could on the break. The car shifted uneasily, sliding on something slick on the road. Blaine's head whipped forwards and a searing pain immersed in his neck. When the car rolled to a stop, he managed to put it in park. His fingers felt for his neck, rubbing where the whiplash had taken place. Hesitantly, Blaine stepped out of the car and walked disoriented towards what he had hit. A lump lay in the middle of the road, completely lifeless. He stumbled as he made his way forward, until he was looking down at the bloodied body of a buck. Bile rose in his throat and his body folded as he heaved. Blood was a sight he could not handle.

Some reasoning began to kick in, and slowly the boy felt for his phone. He let out a small groan and began to stumble his way back to his car. His cell must have fallen out in the crash. He wavered like someone who had had too much to drink with every step. He half hoped that a police car would show up and help him, after they saw that he literally hadn't been drinking. Blaine raised his hands to his temples and pressed against his skull; it throbbed violently in return. Eventually, his hands found the car and he scrambled for the phone. The LED light shone brightly once he held it in his hand and Blaine took two long breaths, trying to take control of his shaking fingers and dial a number.

Something struck him in the back. Blaine gasped and the phone escaped from his grip and clattered to the floor of the Volvo. He felt himself being wrenched out of the car and launched through the air before his face hit the pavement. Rocks embedded themselves in his cheek and his brought his hand to his face. A cool liquid oozed down and onto his hands. Blaine's vision had already been hindered, but now he became woozy with the sight of the blood again. He didn't have a strong stomach for this.

Another blow was to the side of his body. His breath instantly left his chest as he fell onto his side.

A dark chuckle pierced through the ringing that had emerged in his ears. He felt someone wrapping their fingers in his shirt before lifting him to his feet. An unimaginable pain filled his left cheek, and Blaine hissed as he felt pebbles being pressed deeper with the contact of knuckles.

"Who are you?" Blaine choked out. Blood filled his mouth, and he spat desperately to ride himself of the taste. He made out the outline of a large figure, followed by two others. Blaine knew he was in trouble before his back had hit the metal of this car. He scrambled against it wishing he could blend into the frame.

"You can protect your boyfriend, but you can't protect yourself?"

Blaine spat again and tried to focus his vision. _Get a clear picture of them,_ he told himself. _That way you can tell someone when it ends._

The three figures moved forward. Blaine didn't have time to react before hands gripped his arms and the last person wailed their fist into his stomach repeatedly. He bit his lip desperately, trying not to cry out in pain. The tears swelled and he shut his eyes as blow after blow came. Finally, a moan escaped his lips. He became a rag-doll of their torture and his body fell to the ground, crumpled and unable to hold itself.

The pain started to numb as his vision blackened. The toes of boots were in his sides and back before one made contact with the side of his face. Blaine let out a startled cry, his throat ripping apart as the pain took over his body.

"Funny, I thought he would fight back at least. He always did for his boyfriend."

"He didn't even try."

Blaine felt someone's breath on his ear. "I don't think he'll be able to defend his boyfriend after this." Blaine blinked, trying to form something coherent in his mind. Kurt's face rushed to his forefront of his conscience; the boy with a healthy glow and a never fading smile. He remembered the way Kurt's fingers felt in his own, and the way the slushies felt as they dripped down his face instead of Kurt's. The way Kurt would drag a finger across Blaine's cheek before turning it and kissing him lightly. The time crushed Kurt's heart by going with Flint. How he carried himself and ignored Blaine for weeks afterwards. The way Blaine had to work to get Kurt back into his life. The feeling and connection they both shared when he did. Lastly, the way Kurt threw his head back and laughed when truly overjoyed. Blaine would never regret standing up for his boyfriend. Every slushy, every word, everything. He would never regret it. Even now, bloody and ripped, he didn't regret standing up for whom he loved. A steady stream of blood flowed down his face and onto his lips. He spat, narrowly avoided the person's face beside him.

A growl erupted out of the boy, before Blaine felt something his hit back. Then his vision went black.

_._._

**Author's Note: **

This was a harder one to write, that's for sure. The next one will be good, I hope! I am going to start writing it tonight, and hopefully have it up by later tonight or tomorrow after editing and all that jazz. I plan to have it a pretty long chapter though, so it could be a couple days. Thank you for all the response on this though! It really means a lot to me!


	3. Unrecognizable

Kurt dug his nails deeper into the leather seat. His jaw was clamped shut and he refused to move his lips no matter how many times Rachel and Finn tried. Eventually they ceased their efforts, letting his gloom settle over the vehicle. Even if he had wanted to, Kurt knew his vocal chords had combust with his cries of hysteria. The boy's eyes were raw and sore from the tears that had now drained themselves dry and by the way Rachel and Finn handled him, he knew he must've looked more delicate than normal. He knew what he looked like; pan-white face, mussed hair, glowing red eyes and hunched shoulders, complete with horrifying aura. He had looked like this not only once before, but twice.

"Uh… Rachel?" Finn asked, cutting through the silence. Kurt shied away from the raggedness of his voice.

Rachel looked up from her hands and stared at Finn; her voice cracking as she spoke. "Yes?"

Finn shifted in his seat awkwardly. Kurt watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed; what ever was racking at the boy's mind, Kurt knew it would sting him hard. He placed his head against the glass of the window and prepared himself for what was about to be said.

"You need to call everyone… and let them…" he didn't finish his sentence. Finn grimaced and focused back on staying in-between the lines of the highway.

"'Kay," Rachel whispered.

Kurt was extremely grateful he was the one in the front seat beside Finn. He knew that at times like these, Rachel would've allowed herself to twine her fingers together with Finn's, and use him for all the comfort she could get. Kurt knew he would fall apart if he had to watch the gesture take place. Because right now, he was the one that needed to clutch to someone. And so he was holding Finn's sleeve and twisting it so hard Finn's right had turned a deathly white.

"Mer-Mercedes?"

Laughter and booming voices poured in through Rachel's phone. Kurt could pick out each individual and realized that everyone was together.

"Rachel! Where are you guys at? Santana has already made her way through a basket of breadsticks."

"Have not!"

When Rachel didn't respond, Mercedes instantly shushed the group. "… What the hell is going on, Berry."

"We aren't going to make it for a while… or at all tonight," Rachel said. Her voice was completely monotone, out of the usual matter of fact voice.

"I will wreck you if you don't tell me what is going on. Wheres Kurt? Blaine?"

It was silent on both ends. Kurt felt himself breaking into dry sobs again, and he brought Finn's hand close to him, holding onto the boy's wrist with shaking fingers. Kurt's throat tightened to a point where he thought he may no longer be able to breath; apparently that's how your body cries when there are no more tears.

"I will call you later, Mercedes," Rachel said. The sentence was laced with authority and hinted not to ask any questions.

Mercedes resisted the temptation to ignore Rachel's words. "You better."

The phone snapped shut in Rachel's palm before she looked up and caught Finn's glance in the rearview mirror. Kurt missed the exchange as his eyes were pinned forward and at the sign that bore a huge 'H.'

Finn pulled into the parking lot slowly, trying to savour Kurt as much time as possible. He cut the engine as Kurt dropped Finn's wrist and turned to release himself from the car. Before Kurt could grab the handle, Finn hoisted him backwards and pinned him to the seat with a hand. "Wait," he growled.

Kurt glared at his step-brother but held still. "What?"

"What ever happens in there, you can talk to me, alright?" The larger step brother's biggest fear was that Kurt would contain everything he felt in the hospital and try to put on a brave face. He knew that Kurt would contain everything, and eventually the boy would fall apart. Just like in the kitchen. Kurt's crumpled body was fresh behind Finn's eyelids, and he couldn't see it as healthy if Kurt tried to restrict it. Besides, it broke Finn's heart.

Kurt nodded before reaching for the handle. "Help," he whispered as he threw it open.

Finn and Rachel had their arms wrapped around the fragile boy, helping him towards the hospital. He gained strength as he walked, but occasionally his knees buckled and he relied solely on the support of two people on either side of him.

The doors flicked open and the three were greeted with the stench of disinfectant and rubber. Finn couldn't resist but scrunch his nose as they entered; he hated this smell. Air freshener wan't hard to add these days.

Kurt freed himself from Rachel and Finn, and pushed them to the waiting room. "I'll ask for you if I'm not okay," he said. "Don't follow me."

The two fell into the uncomfortable leather chairs as Kurt walked to the front desk and quickly spoke with a nurse before proceeding down a hall. The fluorescent lights flickered as he walked, placing a sinking feeling in the pit of Finn's stomach.

Kurt slowly put his hand on the metal knob of the door of room 442. He tried to muster every bit of courage he had as he twisted it. With a huge draw of air, he pushed the door open and instantly he thought he had the wrong room. The only characteristic that allowed Kurt to recognize the boy on the bed was the small curls that escape the gel.

Blaine Anderson lay in the bed, completely unrecognizable. His face was swollen and blotchy from purple and green bruises. Scrapes distorted his left cheek as well as smaller punctures. His eyes lids were a deep purple that held the hazel eyes Kurt so badly wanted to see. The long lashes brushed against the tender looking skin and didn't flutter when the nurse in the room turned and greeted Kurt. The boy jumped and let out a small shriek as he flew back against the wall.

"Sorry," she whispered. She smiled as best as she could before walking over to the boy. "I sent his aunt off to get something to eat. She'll be back in a couple of hours is my guess."

Kurt swallowed and felt the tears welling in his eyes. "Thank you," he managed.

The nurse smiled and pulled at her black pony tail. She put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and looked at him directly with dark brown eyes. "Kurt? He said your name a few times. But he'll be knocked out for a while. Occasionally he'll come back though."

With that, the nurse left the room and the two boys together.

Kurt pulled a chair up and sat down beside the bed. The more he looked at Blaine's body, the more light headed he felt. This wasn't the time to be passing out, he told himself.

Unwillingly, his eyes began to move down Blaine body again. His lips were cracked and split and Kurt's fingers reached out to them. He brushed them lightly across the scabbing gash and choked back a sob. He continued down the boy's neck; it was maroon and scathed with small half moon imprints. The small sheet like shirt that covered chest was almost a relief to Kurt. He didn't think he could take in everything all at once.

Blaine's arms were almost scrape raw with road burn. His fingers were purple and his palms were cut from shards of something. Kurt felt the calluses of Blaine's finger pads, fumbling with the only part of his body that seemed uninjured. From the waist down, Blaine was covered with a light blanket, another small blessing to Kurt.

Machines were hooked into Blaine everywhere. Oxygen was supplied from tubes that wrapped around his head and fed into his nostrils. The IV had a constant amount of fluid dribbling in through a bag that hung from beside a heart monitor. It was steady and was the only thing that kept Kurt from believing that Blaine wasn't dead. The slow and ragged breaths that Blaine drew in were torture. Each one seems like a chore through the swollen chest.

Kurt felt his body reacting to the situation before his mind could. His fingers were tangled with Blaine's and his lips were pressed to the scratches that ridged his knuckles. His tears fell onto Blaine's hand before they slipped off and soaked the side of the bed. Kurt watched as the boy struggled to survive, a battle that never seemed to end.

The beeping became something that Kurt begged to listen for. As long as it made the overly annoying sound, it assured the boy that there was a beating heart in the body. Kurt pressed his head against Blaine's hand and traced the figure of his torso once again with his eyes. That's when he caught the sight of shaved hair.

He reached out with a shaking head, and touched where the stitches dug in and out of Blaine's skin. There was easily over eight behind Blaine's ear. Kurt ruffled the hair that still held the remnants of gel before returning to his previous position.

This was a form of deja vu; Kurt with his head on the side of the bed, watching as the person he loved was struggling against the injuries that threatened to take their life. A battle he couldn't help fight as much as he wanted to. He wished he was in the bed at the moment, Blaine looking in on him. Blaine was strong, and would hold his composure. He wouldn't have been held onto the sleeve of his step brother like an infant. Blaine would've been smarter and known how to deal with the whole situation that he was presented with. Even though Blaine had run away from his problems before, but he knew that he wouldn't run away if Kurt had've been hurt. Kurt clamped his eyes shut, willing himself to wake up from the nightmare he was stuck in. He had lost someone he had loved in a hospital before, and he didn't want it to happen again.

_._._

"So where are they?" Tina asked.

Mercedes looked from the phone in her hand to the faces around her. She bit her lip and tried to support herself with some sort of reasoning. Every member of New Directions had gathered to celebrate Kurt and Blaine's one year anniversary. Blaine had spent weeks organizing the group and the venue to his perfection.

"I honestly don't know."

Everyone's face twisted in confusion.

"What do you mean _you don't know_?" Quinn asked doubtfully.

"Rachel wouldn't tell me where they were."

Santana snapped up from her chair, and threw Puck out of the way to get into the aisle. "Are you telling me that the dwarf is keeping secrets?"

The group froze as they watched Santana's temper rise. Puck was the only one who dared to mow, and reached out and retracted Santana from Mercedes. He pulled her down into the seat and simply stared at her.

"We all came here, and I think we all deserve the right to know where _the hell they are," _Santana hissed.

"Since when did you care?" Quinn asked.

The two glowered at each other. The two Cheerios had never gotten over the rough patch that had occurred when Quinn rejoined the squad. Each girl looked like they were prepared to throw daggers at each other.

"Did they sound okay?" Artie asked, trying to ignore the tension.

Mercedes looked around the group. "I don't know. Rachel wasn't her usual annoying self."

"That's not good," Sam replied, not daring to take his focus off of his girlfriend.

Each face drew solemn and they scraped their mind for an explanation. Quinn was the first to move. She drew out her phone and pressed it to her ear.

"Rachel."

Rachel began to blubber into Quinn's ear. The Cheerio could barely make out the sentences that never ended. Rachel kept talking, trying to get out the story as quickly as she could. It seemed to physically pain the girl to talk about it, which was odd, as Rachel didn't really care about anyone but herself. And occasionally Finn.

Quinn could hear her ex-boyfriend trying to soothe the now sobbing Rachel. There was shuffling and then Finn's voice continued the explanation, his voice cracking every now and then. Quinn felt the tears fill her eyes and barely noticed them pouring over her cheek bones. New Directions watched the reactions of the girl. Quinn Fabray was one of the strongest people any of them had known. She bore a child, lost everyone that cared at one point or another and she rose above it all again and rose to the top again.

The call eventually disconnected, and Quinn dropped the phone to the table. Everyone looked from the object and back up to the girl. She stared at the dessert menu that sat on the table, searching for the words to explain within it.

Sam began to stand, but she placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him downwards into his seat.

"There has been an accident," she whispered. Everyone leaned in to hear her speak. Quinn was barely audible against the chatter that echoed through Bread Sticks.

"Blaine was driving and hit a deer on the way to pick up Kurt, Rachel and Finn." Quinn breathed quietly and tried desperately not to look at the faces around her. "Something went through windshield- his head or the deer, they think. But he wasn't found in his car; he was fifteen feet away. And he has more injuries… human inflicted ones."

Puck's fists clenched. "Did they ask Blaine?"

"He isn't awake."

The boys had risen from the table and already were on their way out of the door. Mike headed to the cashier and handed over a credit card as the girls scurried after the boys.

The cool winter air stung the exposed skin of New Directions as they entered the parking lot. Shadows flickered across the pavement as each person dashed through the snow, trying to recollect themselves. Sam and Puck began speaking low to each other, their shoulders rigid.

"Where are you going?" Santana shrieked after Puck. She dug her nails into his hand, hauling her body weight against him to stop.

"Do you not know?" Puck retorted, whipping around. Santana let go and stumbled backwards as he yelled. A vein popped out against his tanned neck and rose to his forehead. "Who do you _think_ would hurt Kurt and Blaine?"

"You don't know who, though Puck. You can't jump to conclusions," Mercedes reasoned. "It could have been coincidence. A mugging."

Sam shook his head. "I thought Kurofsky was going to lay off."

"We don't know if it's them," Mercedes repeated.

Everyone huffed in the cold air, their breath coming out in small white puffs. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to see him," Brittany said.

Numerous pairs of eyes faced the girl. It was the longest sentence anyone had heard, and most logical as well. Brittany wheeled Artie towards Quinn's car. The group filed into different vehicles, awakening them from their slumber. Quinn's Lexus hummed quietly as she sped along the roads, mastering her way through the town and towards the highway. Lima's hospital was located ten minutes outside of the town, for reasons that seemed more stupid than ever to Quinn. Tears began to fall from the driver's eyes, and Sam reached over to wipe it away.

And Quinn didn't even know why she was reacting like this. Her and Blaine weren't even close.

But the thought of Kurt broke through her rough exterior. He had been there for her when she was pregnant, and when she was stuck in the dark. She knew the boy would try to bottle his emotions, and eventually they would burst. What worried Quinn, was how he would burst.

_._._._

**Author's Note:**

So! This was a hard chapter to write. Just so much pain really coming out. The next one will be even worse, I presume, as New Directions begin to interact with Kurt.

Thanks for reading!

And I forgot to mention: I don't own any of the characters or Glee.


	4. Dry Sobs

Darkness.

Flashing lights. Silhouettes. Numbness.

Screaming.

_._._._

Kurt's face was plastered against Blaine's unmoving fingers. He had fallen asleep with his lips planted on the boy's wrist, willing him from the never-ending slumber. The whole night he had slept on and off, often awakening with laboured breathing. Dreams haunted his mind as his subconscious toyed around with the idea of how Blaine had gotten where he was now.

The light streamed in the windows, landing tenderly on Blaine's face. The tendrils of sun caressed his jaw and collar bone before landing on the bruising. Kurt forced his head off of the bed and studied the body in front of him.

Each bruise was harsher looking than the previous night; deep crescents of purple and green rimmed around an occasional small contusion. Swelling had almost overtaken the left side of his face with the scabbing and bruising. Nausea threatened to overtake Kurt, forcing him to bite down onto his tongue.

"Oh Blaine," he whimpered, pressing his lips to the boy's forehead. He ran his hand through the curling hair before seating himself to wait again. It was a cruel game of hope and faith and a slow race against Father Time himself.

Kurt's eyes wandered to the window and the scene outside. A fresh blanket of snow covered the landscape, creating a peaceful and still scene. The irony settled slowly for Kurt; a perfect day outside the room, but treachery inside. His fingers groped at the sheets of the bed as his emotions rolled inside of him. If this hadn't have happened, Blaine and him might have been outside. If this hadn't have happened, they might have been wrapped together in a quilt and watching a movie. So many things were possibilities until last night.

"Kurt?"

Kurt turned quietly before raising his eyes. His step brother waited awkwardly, fiddling quietly before meeting Kurt's gaze. "You have a few visitors… if you'll allow them to come see Blaine."

The countertenor looked back at the bed-ridden boy and nodded slowly.

Footsteps came from down the depths of the building and slowly slipped into the room. He had already figured who it would be; New Directions. The only thing Kurt remembered from the trip over to the hospital was Rachel mumbling something unintelligent into a phone.

_Courage,_ Kurt told himself. He clamped his eyes shut and placed Blaine's hand against his lips, trying to hold himself together. Everything had fallen apart in minutes; if he could hang on for a few more, maybe life take a turn again and he could stop feeling helpless.

Kurt could feel the eyes already on his body, taking in the scene before them. An emotionally broken boy and a physically emotion boy bound together by tangled fingers.

The faces of New Directions were solemn ones. No one had expected the devastation to be as bad as it was on Blaine's body. Each set of eyes warily allowed themselves to take the condition of the boy in slowly. Angry black bruises attacked the skin in forms of half moons and long strips. His flesh was raw and swollen, especially over his arms and neck. The most devastating part was Blaine's face; swollen, scratched and punctured. Every person in the room was thankful that they didn't have to see any more of Blaine's body. Just the small amount exposed was enough to send hands to mouths, heads to shoulders and arms around bodies.

Kurt bit his lip and tried to contain the dry sobs that bubbled from him. No one looked like they were doing any better.

"Hi," he managed.

There was mumbling through out the room in response before shifting; a few people went to stare out the window, while others gathered around Kurt or Blaine. He tried not to watch the reactions as people took in Blaine's torso again and again, but he couldn't help himself. With each reaction, he felt himself cringing and wrapping an arm tightly around his stomach. Through the whole process, he held onto Blaine and onto the one person who really understood.

The room was quiet and shaken. Occasionally a small sob would escape, more from Kurt than anyone, before returning to deafening silence.

"Kurt, you need to go get something to eat," Quinn said in a shaky voice. The room nodded in approval at someone remembering to use their voice.

Finn nodded quickly. "Yeah man. You aren't looking any better than Blaine at the moment."

Kurt grimaced at Finn's words.

"I didn't mean it like that-"

A thud of shoe and bone meeting echoed in the cramped room. Finn rubbed his shin and looked warily at Mercedes.

"Kurt, I'll take you. And if anything happens, someone will call." Mercedes made her way over to Kurt and slipped her arm through his. "Come on."

He was too tired to fight and he felt himself being tugged away until he was jerked backwards. Kurt turned to stare at his hand still twined with Blaine's. He hadn't realized he was still holding it, and began to relax his grip. The two boy's fingers fell apart from each other slowly, growing cold from the lack of contact. Kurt felt more alone than ever as he was guided towards the door.

A soft and barely audible moan sliced through the room. Kurt twirled around toward Blaine and he ripped himself from Mercedes hold. He stumbled back towards the bed, and landed on the side of it. His hand found Blaine's instantly as his mind began to tell himself it wasn't real. Yet despite the fact, his body willed it to be true. The noise could have been anyone in the room; there was over ten of them in there. But as irrational as it was, Kurt believed he had heard something.

Blaine's cracked lips quivered lightly, the motion rippling through the rest of his face. His eyelids began to flutter and eyes rolled behind the diminishing veil. They pushed against it, struggling to make their way out of the darkness.

"Blaine," Kurt breathed, squeezing his hand tighter.

Finally, the hazel was revealed and slowly focused on the surroundings. It took a few minutes before Blaine seemed remotely aware of where he was or what had happened. He blinked through the film over his focus and stared at the ceiling.

Kurt was holding his breath and biting his lip, hoping with every fibre of his being that the singer really was awake. That this was real, and he hadn't passed out or been drugged.

"B-b-blaine…?"

The boy's eyes flicked towards Kurt, his face completely blank and void of all emotion. Kurt held the gaze as he reasoned with himself for the lack of response. Blaine just looked into Kurt's glistening eyes as the two tried to convey every emotion in a single glance.

Blaine's face broke into a grimace against the swelling and his tears poured down his cheeks. "Kurt."

_._._._

**Author's Note:**

Small chapter. I needed to get it out and I was having writers block. I will hopefully write another chapter this weekend and get it out. I'm just super busy with school right now, but I hope you enjoy this chapter! The next one will be better planned and just better, I promise!


	5. Fix

Kurt pressed his fingers against his temple and began to massage them into his skull; long, slow swells that left his skin throbbing. His teeth were clamped onto his tongue, biting down the nausea that threatened to overtake him again.

It had taken seconds for the room to spin out of control. Only seconds. Kurt had held onto so much hope in that instant, his eyes pouring into Blaine's. They were connected, holding onto each other through physical contact and emotional. Yet Blaine's eyes had shifted mere moments later, and his body began to shake. His screams had filled the room and sent horror and shock down Kurt. "Get out and get a nurse!" he had cried above Blaine.

New Directions fled the room as a nurse hurried forward and began to adjust the medication that flowed steadily into Blaine. The boy had lurched on the bed; his fists clenching around the sheets, contorting them against their will. Tears had streamed down his face as he fought the pain that racked his body. It might have been minutes, but it felt like hours before Blaine passed out and his scream died into a whisper, then to nothing at all. His tongue twisted on two words that sent shivers down Kurt before he quieted.

Kurt found himself in the bathroom, not really quite sure how he got there. He didn't know a lot of things at the moment. All of his thoughts had scattered his mind as he vomited into the toilet, before falling against the wall and plastering his fingers against his head.

Hope was certainly a bitch. It picked you up, wrapped it's tiny fingers into your membrane, before tightening it's grip and snapping you apart. Hope would watch as you fell and laughed as you shattered with the weight of the world and realization.

Blaine was supposed to be okay - he opened his eyes and spoke. He was supposed to wake up and begging the long road to recovery. Yet it had been the opposite. He had awoken to find no refugee in being conscious, and had to be sedated back into his slumber. It could be days or weeks, Kurt realized, till Blaine might be able to be awake without immense pain.

Pain was also a bitch.

Kurt let his hands blindly reach out for the counter in the bathroom, and hauled himself onto his wobbly legs. There was no reason to give up. He had almost gave up to Blaine and Jeremiah before, but it ended well enough for him. Kurt fumbled with the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, before grabbing the door handle. Ignoring his spinning head, he twisted it and forced himself down the hall.

It was an eternal struggle to move forward and not fall down. A combination of guilt, regret and sickness filled his mind. Guilt, for running away when after Blaine was asleep. His hands should have been linked with Blaine's still, refusing to give in to the weakness of his nausea. Regret for not telling Blaine more, for not saying more, and just general the fact that he and Blaine were supposed to meet up. _If I hadn't have asked Blaine to come, he wouldn't have gotten hurt._ With this, a fresh wave of stars hit Kurt's eyes, and he gripped at the wall.

Kurt fixated himself on recuperating a regular breathing pattern, before he finally managed to make it outside Blaine's door. He pressed himself against the wall as he heard a small voice coming from inside.

"You know, I really wish I hadn't have said those things to you when you came," she said, her voice barely audible. Kurt pushed himself harder against the wall, wishing he could sink into it and listen without restrictions.

She sighed. "You know, I told Kurt he was my only real competition at Sectionals last year. Then when he brought you back, I knew I was going to be forgotten…" she chuckled hollowly. "Especially with me being single and all. You and Kurt would take all the duets, which I didn't mind. But you captivated everyone with your singing in your solos, Blaine."

Kurt peeked around the corner to watch as Rachel held Blaine's hand in her own. Even though her back was turned, he could see the tears splashing on her hand that held Blaine's.

"I was so jealous. But then you talked to me… you respected me, Blaine. You actually listened to me, and you asked me for advice about Kurt! I couldn't believe it, you being basically perfect and all. I guess that was when our real friendship started," she whispered. "All over Kurt." She paused, drawing in a long, shuddering breath. "Don't you see, Blaine? What you are doing to him right now too?" She choked and pushed herself forward. "You healed him after Kurofsky, Blaine. Then you brought myself and him together. He brought you and I together. I can't bare to loose you as a friend, Blaine… and Kurt can't bare to loose you at all."

Kurt's throat held a large lump, restricting his breathing into more of a panic attack. The tears welled as he hauled himself towards the room, and tried to make his way to the blurred figure of Rachel. Kurt blinked furiously and slipped his hands onto her shoulders before enveloping her in a hug. He buried his face into her neck and sobbed, trying to force his mouth to move into words.

"Thank you," he blubbered against her skin. He could tell that she had begun to cry as well by the way her body wobbled against his own. With no shame they cried; endless tears covering their faces and then the sheets.

Even with his fuzzed vision, Kurt could barely bring himself to look at Blaine. The bruises were angry and swollen, making Blaine look more like a monster out of a story-book than a human. Rachel's fingers tightened around Kurt's arms as they held each other together, trying with everything they had to hang on.

"We have to be strong," she whispered. "For Blaine."

Kurt couldn't hold the shock from his face when Rachel opened her mouth, and began to fill the room with her voice.

_"When you try your best, but you don't succeed._

_When you get what you want, but not what you need._

_When you feel so tired but you can't sleep,_

_stuck in reverse."___

Rachel's dark brown eyes followed Kurt as he made his way to the other side of the bed and picked up Blaine's hand. He rubbed his thumb over the cuts and bruises, before he forced his own vocal box into work.

"_And the tears come streaming down your face,_

_when you lose something you can't replace._"

A sob escaped Rachel. She peered at Kurt and nodded slowly, encouragingly.

"_When you love someone but it goes to waste,_

_Could it be worse?"_

Kurt reached across the bed and wrapped his fingers through Rachel's. Together, they would be able to get through this. To get through to Blaine, and all the hate in the world that forced down on them. They would be strong; for Blaine. Strength and courage.

_Lights will guide you home,_

_and ignite your bones,_

_and I will try to fix you._

_._._

It was black. But there was light, and when he had reached out to it, it had seemed… different. Not all the hope and recovery was there like it was promised. A lie. Lies… they would grow, and consume him, and eventually led to events like this.

It was easier to stay in the dark. It held relief/

But he went to the light anyways, and saw blue and green. Blue and green orbs that were wet and accompanied by swollen cheeks. His jaw was clenched and he probably held his tongue captive in between his teeth.

The boy's eyes widened. "B-b-blaine?"

That was his name, wasn't it? Everything began to come back slowly. His mind was muddled with the drugs that seeped into his arm. Every part of his body was stiff, limiting his movement.

His tongue flicked in his mouth as his brain tried to regain movement of the muscles. Finally he managed.

"Kurt."

The tears had filled his eyes and brimmed over. They mirrored each other, wet lines painting their faces and lips flickering upwards.

Calm before the storm.

The pain erupted through his body. There was no warning, and he gasped in shock. Every cell of him was full of endless pain, threatening to take him over. He began to scream, his vocal chords severing in the process. Waves of pain rolled through him, pressing murky blackness into his vision. He reached to it, begging to be surrounded. But like a startled animal, it skittered away from his grasp.

His body lurched forward against another wave. Bad move - it sent more down his spine. Something in his back tore, and another round of screams filled the room. Hot liquid trickled down his skin; blood. He wrapped his hand around the sheets, straining against the pain. The darkness was what he desired; it provided relief.

A small and irritating sting was beginning to take over in his arm, sending in numbness through his body. He stared at the needle as he heaved, willing the drugs to take him over faster.

Blaine's eyes trailed down farther, and landed on the fingers wrapped around his own. Soft and warm, holding on with an unremarkable strength. Where their skin touched, there was no pain. A small whimper escaped his lips as he allowed himself to look at the boy again. Devastation took hold of Blaine as he realized that the pain didn't just effect him; it was clearly Kurt's as well.

As the darkness began to embody him, he fumbled with the words he wanted to get out so badly. "So…rry…" he panted. "Lo…ve."

_._._

**Author's Note:**

Sorry this took so long to get going. I had a super busy week and I wasn't able to actually start writing. Thank you to everyone who has added this as a favourite or put it on any alerts or reviewed it! It means so much to me.

Also, I always forget to put this. I don't own any of the characters or Glee. I wish.

Thanks! I'll try to get another one up right away as well.


	6. Flashbacks

Blaine tucked his books into the locker before slowly raising his eyes. Kurt leaned against the wall of metal, casually peering at the boy opposite from him. With a shaky hand, Blaine shut the door and drew in a ragged breath. The last time he has been at a public school, it hadn't gone so well. With known homophobes roaming the halls, Blaine couldn't help but allow his stomach to form knots. He was nervous; he admitted it. Yet there was Kurt, perfectly poised and scanning the halls for familiar faces. Kurt's green eyes drifted from one body to the next, searching for members of New Directions. He was more excited than nervous, and it threw Blaine off even more.

"Excited?" Blaine managed as he lifted his bag onto his shoulder. Kurt nodded and took him by the elbow, steering him down the hall.

"Of course. None of New Directions knew when I was returning," Kurt said, his eyes pinned on a door at the end of the hallway. "And they didn't know I was returning _with you._ Actually, I didn't even know I was returning with you." He raised an eyebrow at Blaine and looked at him from the corner of his eye.

Blaine shrugged. "You were leaving… and I…" Blaine chewed his lip. The words bubbled in his mouth, threatened to pour over, but yet they were caught in chains and refused to push through. "I didn't want to leave you unprotected."

Kurt let out a small laugh. "Blaine, from what I understand, we share that aspect in a mutual way."

The two walked briskly through the hallway, the tiles passing quickly under their feet. Blaine stares at the lines and tried to force some confidence into himself. But with every laugh and raised voice, he couldn't avoid the feeling it could've been about him. He had thought Dalton had honestly fixed the feeling of uneasiness. Blaine watched as Kurt walked without any weight on his shoulders. No restrictions, no need to blend in, no fear of being shoved into lockers. Carefree. Blaine bit at his lip again and ran his hand through his hair. He had done the minimal amount of gel; just to keep the curls tamed and perfect.

"Nervous," Kurt said, barely looking at Blaine. Their shoulders brushed, sending Blaine's skin tingling.

"A little," Blaine admitted.

"I can tell."

It was Blaine's turn to raise an eyebrow and turn slightly towards Kurt.

"Your body language. Your shoulders are tight and not moving naturally like when you sing and dance. Your thumb is rubbing your fingers, and you only do that when you get nervous. And you aren't meeting anyone's eyes. All key sings to a nervous Blaine." Kurt smirked.

Blaine couldn't help but smile. The knots in his stomach churned before releasing and were replaced with warmth. This boy knew him better than he knew himself it seemed, right down to his very quirks. But Kurt said it in such a natural way, that he felt like they weren't even quirks. They were just simple actions that Blaine did in response to an emotion.

Kurt slowed as they came to an wooden door with a long window. He peeked quickly before drawing back and placing his hands on Blaine's shoulders. He stared intently into Blaine's eyes and smiled. "You have nothing to be worried about. You are Blaine Anderson, and you are amazing. They are going to love you."

"Wardrobe check?" Blaine whispered. He couldn't explain the emotions rolling through him. Instead of trying to explain himself, he looked down at his grey cardigan and black tee. He pulled at the sleeves, straightening it before checking his navy jeans. Anything to object to making himself look like a blubbering lunatic.

Blaine looked over Kurt next. He wore a Marc Jacobs blue sweater, that clung tightly to his toned chest and arms. His jeans were designer, whom Blaine didn't know, but they curved to his thighs and made Blaine's throat tighten.

Kurt reached out for Blaine again, adjusting the collar on his cardigan. "You'll do great, New Kid."

Then his hand slinked for the metal handle, and the two stepped into the choir room of McKinley High School.

-.-.-.-

Blaine hazily stared at the ceiling above him. The quiet heart monitor sent a constant beep, and helped calm his racing thoughts. Despite the film over his vision that slurred his focus, he couldn't stop his mind from moving at horrendous speeds. He was dipping into the past, then jumping back into the present. Flashbacks that sent shivers down his body. He could still feel the way Kurt's fingers were wrapped around his elbow, gentle but protective over his skin. The way that his collar nipped had at his skin when Kurt adjusted it. He could even feel the warmth of Kurt's voice, and how it seeped into his skull and filled his body.

The ceiling was a sickly off white colour, and almost looked like someone has managed to stain it with something. The walls were lined in a pink floral wall paper that looked more like it belonged in a grandma's bathroom than a hospital. Blaine's eyes passed the window and the moon's silver light that glinted off the snow and into the room. Slowly his eyes landed and were transfixed on Kurt's face, the moon painting soft shadows against it. There were lines of worry creased across his forehead and Blaine couldn't hold the guilt inside; he was the one causing the lines.

His fingers were linked inside of Kurt's and held him to not only the one whom he loved, but to the world. With everything in him, Blaine wanted to let Kurt know. He had never been good with emotions, which had shocked too many people. He was a well spoken young man that always was polite and kept up a conversation with his peers. Yet when his emotions took hold of him, he couldn't speak and get his message across clearly. It basically made him look like an idiot. He hated the feeling, and when he was with Kurt he was coiling in the abyss. He couldn't tell Kurt that exactly, either. "Oh, so not a big deal, but when I am around you I can't talk. My thoughts go crazy and you make me not able to speak. Sorry."

So instead he was laying in regret, in not being able to slap some sense into himself and just speak. He had been able to get out snippets, and Kurt was special enough to understand enough of Blaine. But so badly Blaine wanted to just tell Kurt everything, and really let him know what his thought process was.

Blaine sighed and grimaced from the pain that seared across his back. Stars blurred his vision and he blinked ferociously, refusing to return to the blackness. He didn't know what was there along his skin, stretching from one shoulder to the opposite hip, but he wasn't ready to face the truth of it. Blaine drew in another breath and tenderly closed his eyes.

-.-.-

"I really like Adele's new album. She manages to capture a lot in _Rolling In The Deep. _It would be a great song to make into a duet," Kurt said as he chucked his books into his locker. He clasped his hands together and bounced a little in excitement. Blaine grinned and nodded before also putting his books into Kurt's locker.

It was a regular thing they did. Kurt's locker was closer to the choir room, so Blaine would add his belongings to it. It was another way for Blaine to never leave Kurt's side during the day, and also a way to feel closer to Kurt.

Kurt rambled on as he grabbed a bottle of lotion and began to rub it into his skin. Blaine generally paid attention to everything Kurt would say, but his focus was completely gone once he saw _it_. He grabbed Kurt's arm and started to gently pull Kurt away from the locker, adding more force as the minutes seeped by.

"Hang on!" Kurt hissed, throwing the bottle back inside. "You know I have to moisturize-"

"Hey homos."

Kurt stopped mid-motion, his eyes widening and he reluctantly turned. He stumbled backwards to Blaine, their shoulders brushing in the process. Blaine saw the fear that grasped Kurt, and he knew exactly what was racing through his mind.

"What do you want, Azimio?" Blaine asked cooly. He could feel Kurt subside back a step as the football player pressed forward with a smug smirk.

"Well, I wanted to welcome Hummel back to McKinley with a fresh slushy," he responded, his words slurring. "But I only brought one and I didn't realize there were two of you." He looked between Kurt and Blaine before raising the cup.

Everything happened in a blur. No one knew what happened, but only what the outcome was.

Azimio was staring, his jaw practically on the ground. Kurt had his arms wrapped protectively around himself and was gaping for words. Blaine stood in between them, red slushy stinging his skin and dripping through his clothes. He arched a triangular eyebrow at Azimio and blinked through the liquid.

"Good?" he asked.

Kurt's arm was instantly looped through Blaine's. Blaine allowed Kurt to lead him to the bathroom and shove his body down.

"Ow… ow, ow, ow, ow," Blaine murmured, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He barely noticed his head being pressed backwards and the tap running over his hair. He did notice, the fingers working through his scalp and washing away the red.

It was minutes before the door creaked open and Blaine heard gasps throughout the room.

"Oh hell to the no."

"Who did this? I will _kick their ass._"

"You look like a tomato."

Blaine smiled as best he could through the syrup that stung his eyes.

"Azimio," Kurt said, sliding a cloth over Blaine's face.

"Why would Azimio want to target Blaine?"

"He didn't."

Blaine felt more hands rushing over his body, trying to scrub the red dye from his face and neck. He shivered as a chunk of ice slid down his shirt. Eventually he opened his eyes and squinted through the fluorescent lights. Tina, Brittany, Quinn, Santana, Mercedes and Kurt all looked down at him.

"I'm fine," he said, his lip trembling lightly. "Totally worth it."

"Awe, that's so cute," Tina chipped.

"Did you lick it off of him, Kurt?" Santana asked. Her faces instantly came in contact with a flying cherry covered washcloth.

Once the group assured him that the dye was gone, he stood up and took a look over at his clothes. His sweater had taken most of the hit, along with his face and his…

"Oh god," he choked. Blaine's hands flew to his hair. The curls sprouted out from underneath his fingers, completely unable to be tamed. He turned to Kurt, his eyes wide in desperate horror.

Kurt held up a bottle of gel. "I have some, Blaine. I texted Mercedes to grab it from my locker once we were in here. Hence, why we are also now surrounded by girls."

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt instinctively before pulling back and slipping off his sweater.

"Hunky."

Santana ran a finger across Blaine's back before Quinn slapped at it. Blaine pulled at his purple tee, and looked in the mirror. It showed off his muscles, he guessed, but other than that, he didn't see the arousal from it.

"Anyways, we should get to rehearsal," Tina said, grabbing Brittany's hand and pulling her out of the washroom. The rest of the girls followed suit until Kurt and Blaine were alone, facing each other.

"Thanks," Kurt murmured. "For…"

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's body, and bury his face into the boy's neck. It was worth more than a thousand words.

Blaine held Kurt against him. "You don't have to thank me. Anything for you."

-.-.-.-

"Anything for you," Blaine murmured. He squeeze Kurt's hand before pulling it slowly up to his chest, and holding it there.

**-.-.-**

**Author's Note:**

Sorry this took so long. I was having major writer's block. But here it is! Thank you so, so much for all the reviews and favourite stories and everything! It means a lot to me. I am overwhelmed on the response of it! So thank you!

I just wanted to glance back into the past and have Blaine awake and Kurt asleep, and have it switched up.

Enjoy!

I do not own Glee, or any of the characters.


	7. Pieces

Kurt could feel his throat scratch together as he tried to swallow. His lips were rutted in deep crevices from the dryness the instilled the air, which he assumed had attacked his throat as well. Each muscle in his body cried as he began to slowly lift himself from the perch he had taken for his slumber. Kurt slowly raised, cringing as his back cracked in the process, before he abruptly cocked his head and stared. There were two arms coiled around another, securely and almost desperately holding it to the chest. Kurt blinked, before comprehending that it was his arm and fingers enveloped in Blaine's, like endless vines. When Blaine had managed to pull of the task was one question alone. How he hadn't woken up Kurt in the process was another. Kurt was known for waking at the sound of a pin dropping.

Kurt's body longed for something to settle his thirst, but he felt tied to the spot. And besides, he refused to tear himself apart from Blaine, and he didn't believe he could've anyways. There was a surprising amount of strength pinning Kurt to Blaine for someone who was asleep.

Blaine's chest rose steadily against Kurt's sprawled hand and his own arms. Slowly, Kurt reached out to the boy with his free hand. Blaine's cheekbones were slowly becoming apparent amongst the swelling, even though the bruising raged in a deeper red-purple than ever. As much as he could, Kurt had tried to avoid from really looking at Blaine's condition. Instead he watched as the fluid on Blaine's face began to seep away and left the unmistakable bone structure. With a ragged breath, Kurt began to look downwards at the rest of Blaine. The crescent like bruises still rimmed his neck and down the side of his biceps. His scrapes had begun to scab over and covered his arms and hands. Kurt grimaced at the cracked scabs around Blaine's knuckles; broken and fresh from moving. Guilt rose up in Kurt before he forced his eyes away.

He hadn't allowed himself to see any of Blaine's other injuries. He tended to excuse himself from room when the nurse came in to address the wounds and Kurt wasn't prepared to see the worst of it. The nurse had absently told Kurt that Blaine's face and arms were the least marked, which had further confirmed his choice. He honestly wasn't ready to face the horror that lay under the sheets.

Kurt blinked furiously away at the tears the threatened to spill. He had done this too many times in his life; once with his mom and once with his dad. All the people that were closest to him ended up in the hospital. Kurt began to wonder if he was toxic, giving off fumes that poisoned and injured those around him.

With a wandering mind, Kurt idly looked around the room. The light casted a soft glow overhead Blaine; the clock pronounced four thirty two a.m.; the colours of the room clashed in a horrendous manner; the machine beeped, declaring the boy to be alive. The box not only told Kurt that Blaine was alive, but that he too, was still breathing. If Blaine stopped breathing, so would Kurt. They were tied together in more ways that he had ever imagined or dreamed. Even though the possibility was huge and Blaine was no longer in critical condition, the thought of _it_ didn't escape his mind.

A noise that sounded half between a sneeze, cough and a gurgle made Kurt snap out of his thoughts. He stared at Blaine, who grimaced against the pain. Blaine's eyes clenched and his grip tightened around Kurt's arm before his eyes began to flutter open. He instantly held Kurt's gaze, his golden eyes slowly focusing before he tried to speak.

"Blaine, shh, Blaine," Kurt whispered, bringing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. Blaine blinked, the tears streaming down his cheeks and running into his curls. Kurt slowly stroked Blaine's face with the tips of his fingers and wiped away the beads of water.

Blaine smirked against the warmth before a coughing fit took over his body. "Ho..w… do… I…lo…ok?" he gasped once he had retrieved air.

"Like Blaine," Kurt replied without missing a beat.

"B…ad…hu..h?"

Kurt shook his head. "Blaine Anderson. The thought never once crossed my mind as I have been staring at you for days that you were ugly. That you were no longer Blaine-" he cupped the boy's cheek, "- you have always been there. Been here."

Blaine scrunched his nose. "Tha…nks."

Another coughing fit. Kurt's eyes fell downwards to Blaine's chest as he struggled.

"Kurt?"

Kurt raised his eyes and smiled as best as he could. He didn't know when the tears had begun to fall, but he knew they were splashing onto Blaine's body.

"Lie… wi…th me?" Blaine asked, eyes alight with hope.

Without thinking, Kurt wiggled himself beside Blaine and pulled the boy to his chest. Blaine eagerly nestled himself in the warmth and shoved his face into Kurt's neck. He sighed in content before Kurt's arms snaked around his thinning body and began rubbing small circles on his back. Kurt's mind flicked back to when Blaine had been in Kurt's position, wrapping himself around the other. The pressures of the world and Kurofsky's threats, despite Blaine's presence at the McKinley, had cracked Kurt's facade. In response, Blaine had begun to repair Kurt and held onto him without a second thought in the middle of the hallway, and later, at home. But now Kurt was holding onto Blaine, holding onto the pieces and trying to place them back into the appropriate positions. A puzzle, with the pieces scattered amongst the floor.

Kurt rubbed aimlessly, enjoying the moment and the warmth of Blaine against him. His fingers wandered down to Blaine's right shoulder blade, before the boy bristled. Kurt slowly made his way under the shirt and traced the long line from one shoulder blade, to the top of the opposite hip. Bumps and ridges, all created with wire threads to literally stitch Blaine together.

Blaine breathed tensely, preparing for any pain that might strike the sensitive area. He hadn't even known what was back there until the cool fingers had outlined it. "Kurt," he breathed against the chest. He wrapped his fingers into Kurt's shirt, and hauled him closer. "What…?"

"I don't know. But you have stitches, in a line, from your right shoulder to your hip. Across your back…" Kurt whispered before running his hand down the line again.

Fury boiled inside of Kurt as he traced the injury over and over again. He remembered the nurse saying something about Blaine being struck in the back, and the skin bursting with the force. Kurt almost refused to believe that Blaine had actually been beaten and the stitches and the angry heat were the result.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked quietly.

Kurt began to run one hand through Blaine's curls and the other cupping the small of his back. "Mmm?"

"I love you."

Kurt smiled and kissed Blaine's forehead. "Anything for you, Blaine."

Through the quiet room and hallways, Blaine's muffled sobs echoed, while Kurt's held him together; his tears falling without a sound.

-.-.-

**Author's Note:**

This went a completely different way than intended. I don't really know how much I like this chapter, but I don't want to keep anyone waiting. The next will be great and amazing, I promise! Thanks so much to everyone who has added this to their alerts or liked or reviewed my story. It means so, so much to me.

I don't own Glee, or any of the characters.


	8. Progress

**Author's Note:**

A long overdue chapter. It's a longer one, and I hope you enjoy it. I am leaving for vacation as of next Thursday, so I will try to post something before then. Otherwise it will be a week or so for another update. Enjoy!

I don't own any of the characters. Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy and co, and I wish I was part of the co.

-.-.-

They were too peaceful to wake up. Too comfortable, too relaxed, too intertwined. Fixing or adjusting one would disrupt the other and erupt the dream world they had entered. The ridge of stitches popped against the shirt on the boy's back, small never ending hills. On top of it lay a hand, fingers protectively but gently covering the injury. One boy was curled against the other, lying deep within the chamber of arms. Their breathing matched, slowly entering and exiting their lungs in slow drawls. A chin rested on top of brown curls while the other was tucked securely amongst the sheets. There wasn't an awkward gap or space between them; their cradling wasn't sexual, but more of a necessity. The injured boy was more relaxed and at peace than he had been since he had arrived at the hospital. The other boy also looked healthier; the purple underneath his eyes had disappeared, the creases of worry on his head faded. Together, they both glowed with the small steps of recovery.

Half an hour more, then it would be necessary to treat the injuries. His back, his right thigh, shins, thigh, chest and the small pocket beside the pronounced hip bone. The injuries were brutal, but healing. The swelling had begun to disappear, drawing the heat and constant burning with it. The bruises were more pronounced than ever and would take weeks to disappear. Deep muscle bruising and abrasions of the skin, each one with a different pattern and story. The story behind each one would be worse than the other; when they got there, how they got there and why they got there. All amongst the millions of other questions to be asked. The boy's brain would rack for answers as soon as he was prepared and ready to see the detectives and talk to a therapist. But there was still half an hour before he would be assessed, half an hour more of sleep and the tranquility. Half an hour more of the arms holding them together, half and hour more of the content sighs and the small smiles flickering upon their lips.

-.-.-

Finn leaned against the frame of the door, his eyes drooping heavily despite his racing mind. It wasn't the fact that there were two boys snuggled together in the hospital bed, but the fact that it was Kurt and Blaine. There was no explanation on how much happiness dripped through Finn's body as he stared at his step-brother, a relaxed smile in place. So much relief had flooded over Finn as he saw his step-brother calm and happy for the first time in days. Feeling as if they had walked in on a moment, Burt and Carole had ushered themselves out as soon as they stepped in. Finn mentally excused himself from the room, he couldn't physically pull himself from the door. He wanted to make sure that this was real, that despite the darkness there was a light. And so he stayed, watching as the morning sun danced through the window and warm the room.

-.-.-

Quinn peeked around Finn, her cheek resting against his bicep. The smile was hard to compress as she watched Finn's face, distraught and tense slumping into smirk. Blaine's injuries needed to be treated, as the nurse had told her, and the two would have to awake in minutes. Quinn had offered to do it herself, a quizzical look plastered on her face after her talk with the nurse. The young, bouncy nurse had grinned as she stared past Quinn, recalling on a memory. With only the knowledge the Blaine and Kurt were asleep, Quinn had found herself looking around Finn and in on the two boys. Her face immediately took up the exact same complex of the nurse's; her eyes crinkling along the edges with the grin spread across her face.

She placed a kiss on Finn's arm before proceeding into the room, her heels clipping quietly. Quinn couldn't bring herself to lift up her hand immediately and arouse the boys, so she placed it against her floral dress and linked it into the fabric. Sadly, more memories than not relating to a hospital bed reeled in the back of Quinn's mind. Although Beth wasn't a part of her life anymore, she did think about the child she bore. As she scanned the bed, each memory of pain, happiness and loss pinched her, sending her hand flying for the bars on the side of the bed. It barely shook, but immediately Kurt's back stiffened and his head curled upwards.

Quinn's fingers barely touched Kurt's shoulder but he jumped against it nonetheless. Blaine more or less growled at the jerk of movement, his fingers clutching at Kurt's jacket and pulling it to his eyes.

There was some muffling as Kurt bent his lips to Blaine's ear, closing the conversation to become a private moment between the two of them. Quinn retreated to Finn's side, allowing his arm to slip around her shoulders. There was some more growling before the two began to untangle themselves, bones and grunts emitting in the process. Eventually the two had unrolled themselves and sat upright in the bed; their hips pressed against the bars and the sides of their bodies meeting comfortably. Kurt yawned as he looked towards the two visitors at the door, but focused on Blaine beside him; he had begun to hiss through gritted teeth and slowly lowered himself down against the tilted bed.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, his fingers reaching for Blaine's.

"My back… thigh… it's alright," he responded, clenching his eyes shut.

"I'll get out so you have more-"

Blaine's eyes flashed open, his hand throttling Kurt's wrist. "No."

Kurt looked from the boy to the two figures at the door. Quinn had begun backing away, surely to call the nurse, while Finn remained. Tentatively Finn stepped towards the bed and sat on the chair Kurt had previously used as a bed. He sighed and pressed his fist to his lips, eyes curiously taking in Kurt and Blaine. Kurt directed his attention back to Blaine, his fingers stroking his cheek as the pain subsided.

"Good morning you two," came a chipper voice from the door. The nurse entered, her dark brown eyes shining as she carried in a tray. She pushed her curled hair behind her and twisted it up as she checked the machines. Blaine held out his wrist when required to for the IV to be checked and changed before bringing it back warily to his chest. The nurse, Marilyn, talked non-stop about how happy the two had looked asleep and couldn't bring herself to wake them. Blaine watched as she bustled around the room before pulling on a pair of gloves and returning his gaze. "Painful part," she grimaced.

Quinn immediately grabbed Finn and hauled him out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Kurt allowed himself out of the bed to extend Blaine's range of motion, and because he didn't know how much Marilyn would enjoy working on Blaine while he was still in the bed.

Marilyn hummed as she prepared, ignoring the two boys as Blaine caught Kurt's wrist once again. He didn't have to say anything; Kurt instantly knew and settled himself into the spot Finn had been. He slipped his fingers inside of Blaine's as the Marilyn pulled off Blaine's shirt. Biting down hard on his lip, Kurt tried to control his breathing. Blaine stared idly at the ceiling as the nurse checked his chest, trying not to pay attention to what was happening. Marilyn said something like the swelling had gone down, revealing more bruising, but it was muffled against the beating in Kurt's ears . Every few centimetres there was another bruise, inches in length and width. Some were long strands, others half moons and some large balls. Kurt could see the lines of fingers and knuckles and the print of shoes and felt the bile rising in his throat. The fingers in his own had begun to turn white as Kurt clenched, trying to assure himself that he wasn't really seeing this. Blaine nervously shifted his gaze to Kurt's, his golden eyes solemn. He tried to smirk before grimacing as Marilyn prodded a sensitive spot.

After what seemed like hours, Marilyn worked down lower to Blaine's hip. The hip bone held the darkest bruise Kurt had ever seen, sprawling over to just below Blaine's belly button. A hollow and sensitive spot, and it certainly had had a heavy blow. Blaine winced as Marilyn barely touched the taught skin, her face screwing up at Blaine's reaction. She attended it as best as she could, pressing something overtop of it before applying a bandage to the cracked portion of skin.

Blaine's thigh came next. Kurt hadn't even realized there had been damage there, but seeing as every other inch of his body had been blustered, it wasn't too big of a shock. An inch long, now stitched gash, was what Marilyn directed herself to. She pressed, applied and removed more things to Blaine's leg than any other part of his body, taking extra care to double check.

"It's deep," she explained to Kurt as she dabbed at it. "He fell on something, probably a stick or a rock at some point, and it punctured his thigh. It's clean though, and seems to be healing relatively well."

His back was last. Blaine rolled over, his head turned so her could look at Kurt as Marilyn continued. "Tell me to stop when ever, Blaine," Marilyn said, her brow furrowing.

"He never would," Kurt answered, his eyes linked with Blaine's. "He's too polite."

Blaine blinked, smirked and sunk deeper into the pillow. Kurt refused to watch as Marilyn worked on his back and the ridges engrossed there. He could see the purple, the swelling and the black wires out of the corner of his eye, which was more than enough. Intent to distract himself, he held Blaine's hand and gaze, watching and squeezing as Blaine's breathing hitched. While Blaine could control his facial expressions for the previous injuries, his back took over and numerous times he began to whimper into his lip. Instinctively Kurt's fingers ran through Blaine's curls and his thumb circled the back of Blaine's hand. Seeing Blaine in pain struck Kurt hard, and tore him apart. With everything fibre, Kurt wished he was in Blaine's spot and was taking the pain instead of him. Blaine would know what to do, and how to comfort Kurt as the tears streamed down his face. All Kurt could do was wipe them away and press his lips to Blaine's fingers, willing away the Blaine's misery.

-.-.-

"Have you been able to get a hold of Blaine's parents?" Mercedes asked. Her deep brown eyes searched for answers amongst Carole's face then to the hallway where Kurt and Blaine subsided.

Carole nodded slowly, taking her time to pick her words. "Yes, I did. They are concerned and worried about Blaine, but cannot get back here from the business trip for at least another week. I… _asked _if they could cut it, but apparently it's not possible." She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose before unexpectedly throwing her hands in the air. "How could someone not come home to see their _son._ Who. Is. Injured!"

Finn stared at his mother with his eyes wide, before reaching for her elbow. He patted it tenderly, not sure of what else to do. "Didn't you say that they said that you and Burt are as good as parents for Blaine though…?"

It was now Mercedes turn to have the deer in the headlights look. "They said that?"

-.-.-

"Well, they _are_ healing Blaine," Marilyn told him as she began to tidy up the room. "Just slowly. But there is definite progress." She flashed the two boys a brilliant smile before exiting the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

"Healing," Kurt breathed, a smile fluttering on his lips.

Blaine burst into a grin and began pulling Kurt towards his torso. Before Blaine had to use any more energy, Kurt was lying in the bed, Blaine slowly inched himself closet against the boy. He placed a hand against Kurt's cheek and brought his forehead to lean against his own. The two stayed together, eyelashes fluttering against each other before Kurt slowly leaned forwards, pressing his lips to Blaine's.

"Thank you," Blaine whispered, pulling himself deeper into Kurt's chest.

"You don't have anything to thank me for, Blaine," Kurt replied quickly. Blaine nodded, then held his breath, bracing in Kurt's arms. "Blaine? You alright…?"

The boy began to shudder and Kurt immediately pulled him tighter, trying to transfer his warmth and comfort into Blaine.

"I can remember it all… and then nothing. Then it'll all come back. In flashes, Kurt… it scares me. So much. I can't be scared Kurt… I can't run, my legs don't work," he mumbled into Kurt's chest, his words sharp and painful. Despite the searing pain in his body, Blaine rolled himself into a ball and pushed himself closer to Kurt until there was nothing but Kurt. Blaine shut his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms to them.

Kurt's fingers delicately pulled Blaine's hands away, forcing him to meet his eyes. "What do you see?" Kurt asked quietly.

"You."

"Exactly. And I'll always be here Blaine."

"I'm scared. And I can't tell you yet… I can't put them into words yet…" Blaine's voice cracked as he fumbled with Kurt's collar absently.

Kurt reached for Blaine's hands again, and pulled them into his own. "That's alright. And I'll be here, always. So when you want to talk, I'll be here. I'll listen, because you've listened to me. And I care about you. And I love you."

The tears ran down Blaine's cheeks before he leaned into the arms that wrapped around his body, cradling him close to the steady pounding of the boy's heart.


	9. Wrap Me Up

**Author's Note: So this is a filler, and it's setting up for the next chapter, so I warn you; it's a little different. Anyways, enjoy! Also, here is a link to my tumblr and specifically about Breathe Me.  
.com/BreatheMe  
I in no way own any of the characters or Glee. I wish. **

-.-.-

The golden-hazel eyes stared at the roof, deciphering the small specks that lined it. Occasionally a picture would appear amongst them and when satisfied, he would turn his gaze to the next patch. This was how he spent the hours at night while Kurt lay snuggled at his side, heavy breathing tickling his neck. Despite the protection of Kurt's arms, a few hours here and there just out of pure exhaustion was the only amount of sleep Blaine was able to fall into, and it was far from what he had hoped to acquire. Every time his lids slid over his eyes, the images of that night were vibrant upon them. He could feel the impact to his ribs, feel the way the gravel shredded the skin on his cheek and the way something tore apart his back. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could protect him from what lay in the dark veil. Even Kurt couldn't help him there.

He barely noticed when the soft clicking of heels stopped outside the door, let alone entered the room. The soft smell of cinnamon and something else Blaine could never place wafted towards him. Without averting his gaze from the roof, he let out a small "hi."

Kurt barely stirred as Blaine's chest hummed over the word, the stress taking him fully under to the dimension of sleep. It had taken Blaine at least half an hour to coax Kurt into the bed, and then to fall asleep. Kurt's stubbornness was something Blaine admired, despite how difficult it could make they boy. Yet somehow, Blaine had a way of wiggling his fingers into the wall that Kurt would set up, and could slowly pick it apart. It was something he had learned to do over time, and he had become proud of it.

"Blaine," she breathed, her voice cracking.

Finally, Blaine turned his head and caught the dark brown eyes which were rimming with tears, threatening to spill over at many minute. Blaine knew how she hated to cry even in private, and an ache grew in his chest. Her knuckles strained against her skin as she knotted them through her red dress before her face crumpled away from the hardness that was normally composed. She bit at her lip, eyes boring into Blaine's as she searched for an answer.

"I don't know why," Blaine whispered.

Her head fell then, tears dropping onto her dress and patching it with dark stains. An indescribable sob broke out through her, racking her torso and shaking her breath. Finger nails scraped at her scalp, dragging her hair through her hands as another sob shook her body.

Blaine felt his own tears rising at the thought; he did know. He did and he didn't know why he had been attacked and he remembered the words that those people had said; they had been burned into his mind. They felt hot against the inside of his skull every time he looked back on the event, which was more often than not. It tore Blaine apart not being able to tell Santana why; he couldn't make a sentence out of the jumbled words and the haunting images, and even though he knew the initial reason, there wasn't an exact place or person to point to. He knew if he told her, even his speculations if he could manage, she would work up a rage and end up violently hurting who ever she reasoned out it to be.

Blaine linked his fingers in Santana's and squeezed softly. Her eyes rose in response, meeting Blaine's again.

"I'm okay," he tried to assure her.

Santana shook her head, bringing their hands to her lips. She kissed Blaine's scabbed and scarred knuckles before pressing her forehead against them. "I don't understand…" she squeaked.

Blaine reached out, careful not to disturb Kurt in the process, and lifted her chin towards him. He popped the side of his lips up, giving her the best smile he could manage. She responded in her own sorry smile, before scooting a chair close and plopping herself down. She began to run her fingers through Blaine's hair, playing with the lack of gel and the now loose curls. "You should do this more often," she mused, her eyes tracing over his hair.

"What, get beat up?"

She gave him a look before returning to current source of entertainment. "Leave the gel out of your hair. You look good without it."

Slowly Blaine felt his eyes close as he concentrated on the warmth of Santana's hands. Kurt had soundlessly turned to face the window, his mouth slightly agape and allowing a small, quiet snore to occasionally break the silence.

"He's a deep sleeper, isn't he?" Santana ask, still nonchalantly running her hand amongst Blaine's scalp.

"Mhmm," he responded, before his eyes fluttered open.

"How are things with you?" Blaine asked, eager to take both of their minds of the present situation.

Santana drew her hand back with a sigh and leaned against the bed. Her gaze fell on the window and the early light beginning to arise outside of it. With a long, shuddering breath she turned to look at Blaine with saddened eyes.

Blaine knew her well enough to know the answer. He reached out to her hand, rubbing his thumb across the top of it. How could she tell him? He knew that it would be immensely difficult to get out the words that there was no progress, that she didn't want to be a bitch any more than she was already. How could you break the heart of someone you loved, when they clearly didn't reciprocate the feelings? Blaine began to chew at his lip, knowing that once Kurt had been the one so utterly in love with Blaine, but Blaine had been so blind that he hadn't returned the feelings. His stomach knotted at the thought of breaking Kurt over and over. Once when he hadn't reciprocated the feeling, twice when he had gone after another boy… and then now, when he was breaking Kurt all over again by being hurt. He wondered if he hadn't have come into Kurt's life, if maybe Kurt would've met someone else who would've helped him along. Someone who would've loved him as much as Blaine, someone who wouldn't have had been bound to a hospital bed.

"Blaine," Santana finally managed.

"Hey, hey, come here," Blaine said as Santana began to stumble off the chair towards him.

She fell against the side, burying herself in the nook of Blaine's arm. A heart-wrenching whimpering escaped her lungs and vibrated against Blaine's torso. It was his turn to stroke her hair this time as he tried to soothe her heaving and emotions.

Once Santana had worked herself out of her fit, she lay limp against Blaine's body, her fingers still wrapped in his shirt but her face void of all emotion as her lids drooped. It was then when Blaine noticed the lack of heavy breathing on his right side, and the way the shoulders were tight again.

"Kurt."

It wasn't a question, and it wasn't anything that needed a response. It was simply a statement and a word that rolled over Blaine's tongue and filled him with a sense of happiness. He would've said it a million more times if necessary, just to feel the way it shifted through his mouth.

But it got the predicted response, and the boy rolled over to meet Blaine's eyes. Blue-green against golden, shifting around each other.

Kurt's eyes wandered to Santana - now heavily breathing against Blaine - tear stains apparent across her cheeks and creating blotches on Blaine's gown.

"I'm pretty sure this is not hospital regulations," Kurt said as he took in all of the bodies conversing their weight onto the bed. "Especially the squishing of the hurt."

Blaine chuckled and lifted his chin as Kurt shifted closer to Blaine and brushed their lips together.

"So she came in the middle of the night?" Kurt asked after he pulled away and settled back into the bed. "Because if I am not mistaken, that clock says five thirty a.m…"

"Yeah…" Blaine responded. "I figured something happened with Brittany."

"Plus everything that has happened to one of her best friends," Kurt added.

Blaine's face fell despite how much he tried to control it. Kurt slipped his hand up to a cheek and began scrambling over his words, but they all melded together. Something along the lines of "I didn't mean it like that" and "Please" and "Blaine" and maybe "I love you." Nonetheless, nothing was getting in his eardrums and he stayed motionless and uncomprehending. His eyes were glazed as he stared at Kurt and tried to make out the mess inside of his mind. Not only was he hurting Kurt but was he hurting Santana as well? He really was toxic, hurting everyone he knew or touched, dragging him down in this hell whole with him. He barely noticed when Kurt sat up quickly and began to shake Santana awake over top of him, and then was trying to gently coax Blaine's eyes towards his face. Everything blurred, slowed, and muted.

-.-.-

Santana snapped her eyes open and flung herself backwards, knocking over a chair in the process. Her body clunked to the ground, creating a very loud hiss of swears. Everything from the previous day was slowly coming back, working her into a bundle of varying emotions. "Seriously?" she asked, pulling herself off the ground, "Are you for fuc-"

"Santana! Help!" Kurt screamed as his hands fumbled all over Blaine's shaking body.

The girl looked on as Blaine trembled, his eyes distant and glazed. The light that laminated the gold in his eyes was gone, replaced by a dull hue. His mouth was slightly open, which in turn released a harsh sounding noise from his lungs. His chest rose in time with the noise, a fast paced up and down. All the skin on his body had gone white as he shook and Santana finally allowed herself to press forward and grab one of the clenched fists.

"Blaine, honey shh, please you're okay," she pleaded, running a hand against his cheek. His eye lids fluttered wildly as if he was trying to clear a fog from within.

Kurt was making similar pleads until he finally grabbed Blaine's torso and wretched him forward. Blaine slumped like a rag-doll against Kurt's body, his head lolling forwards, but the shaking continued. Santana stumbled backwards towards the door, her hand reaching for the knob as Kurt literally wrapped himself around Blaine and push the boy's face into his chest.

"Santana, wait!" Kurt hissed. "Here, now!"

Santana pursed her lips, pleaded silently but forced herself forwards again.

"I can't do this alone," Kurt said through gritted teeth as he tried to calm the boy in his arms. "It's a panic attack - I used to have them…"

Kurt grabbed Blaine's face and took it between two hands, forcing the eyes to meet his own. "Blaine… Blaine!" The eyes slowly held Kurt's, comprehending that there was a soul inside. It was more than horrifying to Santana. "Blaine. This is not your fault, I promise you that. I _promise_ you Blaine. I have never, ever broken a promise to you. And you've never broken one that had me in it either - actually, I'm sure you've never broken a promise in your life."

Santana watched as Kurt desperately enveloped himself around Blaine, switching his hands from cradling his face to pulling him against his chest. Her whole world moved in slow motion, the two boys struggling against what ever was racing through Blaine's mind. She hadn't known anyone in the hospital before, or felt or faced death; the most she had been in one of the sterile rooms was when Quinn got knocked up and her screaming could be heard down the hall. But now here she was, faced with something she had never experienced and Kurt was asking for her help. Why wasn't Burt or Carole here? Hell, Finn would've been better than her! With a shaking breath, Santana brought her hand to Blaine's curls and began carding her fingers through them. Blaine's eyes blinked and whizzed around the room until Santana felt a surge of adrenaline and brought her forehead inches within Blaine's, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Blaine Anderson. You and Kurt helped me; you and I helped Kurt; you better allow Kurt and I help you or all hell will break loose. And you know what that means," she said forcefully, attitude dripping from the words. She ignored Kurt's sharp intake of air and continued, "Remember, we all do this together. Us being witty? It was better together." _What had Kurt been saying? Something about blame… _"So don't you dare blame yourself."

Dragging herself away from Blaine, sudden exhaustion for the second time took over Santana's body. She slumped against the nearest chair, which gave out under her weight and pressed her against a wall in turn. She began to knead her lip in between her teeth, praying to something that her words had gotten through Blaine's thick skull-

"Blaine?"

-.-.-

Kurt peered down at Blaine whom had gone limp in his arms. He slipped them out from underneath the weight and exited the bed, deciding that the fit-induced sleep would be better suited if he wasn't taking up space. The constant pattering of Kurt's heart thumped in his ears and whacked out his vision, but he could make out the soft outline of Santana curled against the wall. The chair beside her was knocked over, and Kurt gave it a quizzical look - how had he not heard the clattering of the iron hitting the floor?

His body tugged itself towards Santana, gently gliding into place beside her shaking body. Kurt found her fingers and linked them with his own, squeezing and trying to bring the girl as much courage as he dared. Santana hastily wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing the tears across her face. Kurt knew from experience that Santana hated crying in front of people as it meant the walls she built up around herself had fallen and been wrecked by the present situation.

"'orryurt" she mumbled, her red rimmed eyes meeting Kurt's wide pressed ones. "Nomch-hep."

She fell forward into Kurt's lap, like a child wanting to be held after a nightmare. It honestly was, Kurt decided; a panic attack was just as scary as a diabetic attack or a heart attack if you didn't know what was happening. To see a person enter a state where there was literally nothing you could do but try to find the source of the anxiety and work through was something that could wreck you both emotionally and physically. Kurt began to stroke Santana's head, moving his thumb to brush gently across her cheek to remove a loose tear. His mind whirled as he recalled on the situation that had ended seconds earlier, along with the jostling thoughts of what really had brought it on.

It hit him. Hard.

"He thinks it is all his fault… everything…"

"What?" Santana asked quietly against his thigh.

"The attack… he thinks the whole thing was his fault. He thinks that him getting hurt was his own fault, and knowing Blaine, he is thinking of protecting everyone and not himself," he breathed, everything folding out in front of him, "meaning he thinks he is hurting everyone, when really he is the one we are all worried about. Typical Blaine."

Santana stayed quiet as the information settled, a quizzical look encompassing her face. "What if… what if it's linked to _how_ he got hurt, Kurt?"

"… what do you mean?" Kurt replied.

"I mean… what happens if him getting hurt, and thinking over everyone else relates to how he got attacked, or who attacked him?" Her eyes shot up to the sleeping boy, and began to grow brighter.

"I don't want to bring on another anxiety attack by asking-"

"Not now, obviously. But if we can get into dapper-boy deep enough before having to pull out, then we should get some ideas… and don't turn that dirty." She narrowed her eyes at Kurt accusingly, before hauling herself off the ground and strode back to Blaine's side.

Kurt wearily walked up beside her, watching as she began running her hand down Blaine's arm. "He sure looks like shit," she said quietly.

He didn't dare respond, knowing it was he who was about to break into tears next.

"I want to stay, but I should probably head home." Santana turned and pulled Kurt forward, wrapping her arms around him. He leaned his head against her shoulder and inhaled, soaking up her perfume. He felt content in her arms, even though they were foreign and he rarely visited them. Santana's hugs were special, rare and meant more than just the casual greeting or goodbye, and it helped that Kurt felt like it glued him back together momentarily.

"Thanks, Santana," he said into her neck before pulling himself away. She smiled against her rising tears, pressed her lips quickly to Kurt's cheek, and fled the room.

-.-.-

Everything hurt. Wait - that was an understatement. Everything _ached _in ways it never had before; his muscles were taught and had limited mobility; his skin was stretched tight over his whole body and pinched when he tried to move. Lastly, every breath and every inch he moved, a wicked lash of anger shot out of his nerves, engulfing his eyes in blackness. It was minutes before Blaine could even open his eye lids, and he was greeted with a vision piercing light. But with time, his eyes adjusted to the light and pushed away the pain. The first thing he noticed was the lack of filling of the sheets beside him. One of his fingers shot out and began twisting across the length of the bed to make sure his eyes were lying to him. To his disappointment, there was no warmth in the sheets and there was no body to meet his finger. He didn't dare sigh; it would bring on another round of pain that would force his eyelids shut, and the whole opening process would have to begin again. Instead he stared at the ceiling and focused on the dots and made pictures out of the patterns they made. When he discovered something in one batch, he shifted to another and began again. Doubt began to fill his mind as he realized he was very well alone for the first time since that night. His breathing hitched in his chest, like air valve that had a finger slipped over top of it. Alone.

Something crinkled in the room and Blaine focused himself back into the present and out of his thoughts. His fingers began toying with the sheets in the bed and he assumed that the crackling has been a product of it.

"Blaine?"

His eyes snapped to the left, and was met by the figure of Kurt Hummel, uncomfortably bound to the constraints of an arm chair. The boy rubbed at his eyes, clearing the sleep and emitting the dazzling depths of colour. The sun gently gleamed off Kurt's hair and ran down the length of his face, forcing a white glow to bounce off in return. Long, brown eyelashes cascaded his brow before they blinked and moved with the coloured discs below.

"I didn't want to take up room, disturb you, all that," Kurt explained as he stretched, a small patch of skin above his hips becoming exposed in the process. Blaine found his eyes trailing along the bone, before idly retreating to Kurt's face as the veil of clothing fell back over. Kurt slowly made his way to the bed, his movement jerking slightly from stiffness and Blaine felt a twinge of guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Kurt must have seen the change in Blaine's eyes as a hand was suddenly pressed against his cheek. "Don't you dare blame yourself Blaine Anderson."

Despite the hardness and seriousness of Kurt's threat, a small smile played upon his perfect lips.

Blaine returned it as best as he could, forcing it through the hold the pain had taken on his muscles.

Kurt cooed to him softly as his brow furrowed at the unneeded ache, and partly because he felt vulnerable the way Kurt could read him so easily. Vulnerable and loved.

"You'll hurt from your body moving like that so soon, and the fact that your injuries still hadn't healed, along with the bruising," Kurt said as he absently played with one of Blaine's curls.

"Please sleep in the bed with me, not in the chair," Blaine managed through his sanded throat. Kurt smirked and crawled into the bed, his arms waiting to entangle themselves around Blaine. Without having to be asked, Blaine shifted as quickly as he could against the concrete that had filled his body. He relaxed once inside the safe barrier of Kurt, and pushed his face against the boy's chest.

"Please don't blame yourself for any of this Blaine," Kurt whispered into Blaine's hair. "Ever."

Blaine kept quiet, his tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth, struggling for the excuses.

"Promise," Kurt said, more like a necessary obligation than a question. Blaine sighed into the boy and kissed Kurt's chest.

"Promise."


	10. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

First off, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. It's been months since I updated _Breathe Me_ and I've found myself longing to continue this story, but not being able to sit down and translate my thoughts onto the screen and paper. Simply, I haven't been able to sit down. I've been through a hectic, mad, and insane fall - something I wish that hadn't had happened.

Secondly, I do have a plan for this story.

Thirdly, the next chapter will be up in the first week of February. I am in the middle of finals, and they are worth fifty percent of my grade - never complain about your final exams until they are worth this much.

All in all, I need to thank you all for your support and your comments. I know this is a tear jerker of a story, and with how tired the characters are, it makes me tired to write this story. But, I'm pushing through after these exams I can promise you this;

There will be more inexplicably and unexplainable moments that will tear you apart. But there will be relief, and I promise not to leave the ending of this story unfulfilled to it's true potential.

With that, I send you love, and promises that there will be a new chapter, and soon a new beginning for Blaine.

(I will post chapter ten to a new chapter, which will show up as eleven.)


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